WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Oblivious

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◈ Murim in my Hometown ◈

Chapter 11: Yongcheon Escort Agency

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It had not even been long since I returned home, yet my purse had grown noticeably lighter, as if it had a hole in it.

Five silver taels to buy the house. Seven hundred and thirty copper coins for the Registry Ledger, Identity Plaque, and broker’s fee. Another silver tael for repairs.

I had already spent about half a silver tael on having one meal delivered every afternoon.

Would I save money if I stopped ordering food and cooked for myself? After doing the math, buying ingredients and firewood would cost even more.

I had never cooked a day in my life. Even if I tried my hand at it, I would only spend money to eat terrible food scraps.

I had just spent another five silver taels on a Willow-Leaf Saber. The only income I had gained from killing Jang Hodal was seventy copper coins.

Now I had six silver taels and a few hundred copper coins left.

That was not an insignificant amount. If I spent carefully, I would have no trouble lasting two years.

Still, it bothered me that my hard-earned money was vanishing so quickly. I wondered if it was time to find some work.

Suitable jobs did not appear every day.

If I waited until I was broke and then hurriedly looked for work, I might have to force myself into a job I did not want. It was easier on both body and mind to earn what I could while I had the chance.

Besides, staying shut inside the house all the time was getting boring.

To find work, I needed a trustworthy informant who knew how things worked around here and, more importantly, would not stab me in the back.

Fortunately, I had a connection like that.

“Work that pays? Oh, if there were something like that, I’d take it myself... Ah, come to think of it, Yongcheon Escort Agency is hiring.”

“An escort agency? Forget it.”

I shook my head as I chewed on the snack Gusam had brought out.

I had only just managed to return to my hometown. I never wanted to leave again.

I hated walking all day, and I was sick to death of sleeping outdoors in the mountains with cold dew soaking me. If I carelessly went on an escort run, I could take a stray blade and never return.

“They aren’t hiring escorts for runs. They’re recruiting guards for businesses. Every decently large shop in Seochon hires Yongcheon Escort Agency for security.”

Gusam suddenly leaned closer and lowered his voice.

“Simhyang Pavilion is one of them. They said you might get assigned there if you’re lucky, so every martial artist with a sword and every half-baked street thug has rushed to the agency. Look. The inn is practically empty.”

“Simhyang Pavilion...”

That extravagant eight-story pavilion had made me realize, on my first day home, that Seochon was no longer the hometown I remembered.

As I silently drank my tea and sank into thought, Gusam grinned.

“What? Why are you smiling?”

“It’s nothing. Heh heh heh. Great Hero, even if you get into Simhyang Pavilion, don’t forget this foremost disciple.”

“Tsk. You’re still wet behind the ears, yet you’re already thinking like that. You’ll wear yourself to the bone.”

“No, that’s not it. If you could at least let me listen outside on a day Yehyang plays the pipa, I’d serve you as my benefactor for life.”

“Is Yehyang really that famous?”

“I don’t know if she’s truly a peerless beauty, but her pipa playing is incredible. There are regular patrons who come from far away just to hear it...”

Gusam had never even been near Simhyang Pavilion’s high walls, yet he spoke endlessly about it. The more I listened, the stranger it felt.

Why would such a thriving pleasure house be in a place like this?

* * *

Yongcheon Escort Agency stood on a broad mountainside where the mountain range split in two.

Several buildings built against a rugged mountain range. Tall, thick brick walls like fortress ramparts. A main gate wide enough for two freight wagons to pass side by side...

It was not comparable to the major escort agencies of Hubei or Henan, but it was still quite sizable.

The front of the agency was crowded with dozens of outlaws and killers carrying sabers and swords.

The ominous sight resembled a market for wandering martial artists, and I could not help but laugh.

Unless they were truly desperate, blade-wielders did not even go near an escort agency.

Escort runs were grueling and dangerous work.

Nor did they pay particularly well. Unless someone was a wanderer who could not remain still for even a moment, few people made a profession of it.

They did not seem to have come to become escorts. Just as Gusam had said, they must have gathered here because they had been tempted by Simhyang Pavilion.

Escorts wearing dark-blue uniforms embroidered with “Yongcheon” over the left breast were lining up the martial artists.

Most followed instructions obediently since they had come for an interview. But martial artists were rough, contrary people who lived on their own pride.

Trouble never ceased. Some openly acted stubborn, while others tried to cut in line, then glared and gripped their weapon hilts after being caught.

Yet no blades were drawn because of the massive man, who appeared to be a head escort, guarding the main gate like Zhang Fei at Changban Bridge.

Whenever a disturbance broke out, he strode over with his hulking body, a head or two taller than everyone else. It was like watching a mountain move.

When he glared down from up close with his rocklike face covered in sideburns, the pressure was overwhelming.

The murderous air around him was so fierce that it seemed he could split someone from crown to crotch the instant he drew the broad saber at his waist.

Even swordsmen whose work was killing people lost their nerve around him.

Escorts were martial artists too. If necessary, they did not hesitate to kill. This head escort looked like the sort who would willingly bathe in blood even when it was unnecessary.

He might only look impressive and be less skilled than he seemed.

But no one drew a blade to test him.

The weaker ones immediately tucked their tails between their legs, while the capable swordsmen did not forget why they had come to the escort agency in the first place.

They had likely calculated that clashing with Yongcheon Escort Agency would make it difficult to remain in Seochon.

As I stood at the very back and waited, someone stomped angrily out of the main gate.

“Hey, brother, did you pass the interview?”

“How should I know!”

“Heh heh heh. Pass? Look at that face. You got beaten properly, didn’t you?”

“Looks like this place has a sharper bite than Simhyang Pavilion.”

“Doesn’t look like anyone has passed. Are they really hiring gatekeepers?”

It was obvious what kind of interview this would be. I had worked once as a temporary escort in the past, so I roughly knew how these things went.

With so many applicants, the bar for passing would be high.

The martial artists at the front of the line disappeared through the main gate one by one. Shortly afterward, they returned dusting off their clothes and headed toward town in search of taverns to soothe their wounded feelings.

It was only in the late afternoon that my turn finally came.

I followed an escort through the main gate. Beyond the stone-paved path, interviewers were waiting for me in a broad training yard.

“Take that wooden saber and show Head Escort Pung what you can do.”

They began the test immediately without even asking my name. Then again, the applicants before me had been beaten into the dust and failed, so knowing their names would have been meaningless.

I untied my Willow-Leaf Saber and placed it on a weapon rack, then picked up the wooden saber.

It was about the same length as my saber, but it did not even weigh a third as much. I loosened up by swinging the wooden saber around. It was so light that I barely needed to worry about its balance.

This was my first time holding a wooden practice saber. Even when I learned saber techniques in Zhejiang, I had naturally used a real blade.

A wooden saber was not something to laugh at. A proper blow could still break bones or kill someone.

The middle-aged martial artist called Head Escort Pung did not even take a ready stance.

“Come. I’ll let you strike first.”

Slowly, I gripped the wooden saber with both hands and raised it to eye level. There were about twenty paces between us.

In a real fight, I would move as cautiously as possible. There was no need for that now.

After quickly calculating how to approach and attack, I kicked off the ground and charged. I closed the distance in an instant and unleashed the most overbearing offensive form of the Nameless Saber Art.

Head Escort Pung sneered and readjusted his grip on the wooden saber.

He seemed to think I was charging blindly without thought, like those before me.

Instead of avoiding my strike, he swung his wooden saber to block it.

Crack!

The moment our wooden sabers met, I let mine slide away at an angle with the force and twisted my body to the left. I spun it over my head and aimed for his neck.

Head Escort Pung knocked aside the saber strike flying at the back of his head, then swung his wooden saber wide in a counterattack. His strength was considerable, and his reactions were quick.

I hurriedly lowered my stance and used footwork to move into his blind spot.

Whooong!

A heavy whistle like the buzzing of a bee passed over my head.

From a crouch, I thrust the wooden saber toward his lower abdomen.

Head Escort Pung kicked the blade aside and hurried backward.

I pressed after him with quick steps, unleashing vicious consecutive thrusts at his thighs and ankles.

His footing grew unsteady, but he did not tangle his feet or fall.

In a real fight, most people would panic, take a blade to the leg, and fall on their backs. Yet Head Escort Pung calmly avoided my saber tip.

It was the movement of genuine footwork, drilled into his body through endless training and real combat.

I crouched, then sprang toward him like an explosion and thrust my wooden saber.

Head Escort Pung tried to strike my shoulder, then hurriedly bent his upper body back and leaped away.

It was clearly a strike that caught him off guard, yet he avoided the rising blade by more than a handspan.

Still, it was not enough to reverse the flow of the fight.

The Nameless Saber Art was an aggressive martial art that relentlessly pursued an opponent until they collapsed. It did have defensive methods, but it favored attacking whenever possible.

When it worked well, it was unhindered and exhilarating. When it did not, it became as desperate as fighting to die together.

Simply memorizing and learning the forms was not enough. You needed the nerve and courage to fight fiercely. You also needed sharp eyes and quick hands.

Fortunately, it worked reasonably well against Head Escort Pung.

I chased him relentlessly across the training yard.

After more than ten exchanges passed in an instant, I was certain.

This man was a master. He was absolutely not weaker than I was.

He should have taken at least one hit, yet Head Escort Pung somehow avoided or blocked every strike before finally turning from defense to offense.

For someone this skilled to be nothing more than a head escort...

He had enough skill to serve as an instructor or hall master in a small or medium-sized sect.

If a head escort was this capable, I could not even imagine how strong the escort agency master, said to be a Lay disciple of Mount Qingcheng Sect, must be.

That did not mean I could not beat him.

I had not survived until now merely by luckily meeting opponents weaker than me or equal to me. I had brought down plenty of men stronger and more vicious than I was.

If this were a fight to the death, I would have used every possible means.

I would have thrown out every killing move, stomped on his feet, hurled daggers, and scattered the lime powder hidden in my left sleeve.

But this was a spar meant to show my skill. There was no reason to use dirty tricks.

My opponent also refrained from underhanded tactics. I did not feel any killing intent from him.

The forms of the Nameless Saber Art that I had practiced alone came alive against a worthy opponent, and for the first time in a while, my blood began to run hot with excitement.

Opportunities to cross blades with a true master did not come easily.

Even if I lost and failed here, coming all the way to the escort agency would have been worthwhile just for the chance to spar with such a master.

A gambler was someone who clutched gambling tiles even after losing a few fingers and selling off their wife and children.

A merchant was someone who found a profit even in a losing deal.

A scholar was someone who never gave up the fantasy of passing the civil service examination until dying of old age, even after failing all their life.

A martial artist was someone who wanted to become a proud master and make their name known throughout the land.

That was true of the rising junior talents raised like fighting cocks by great sects, the Demonic Cult members who ate people, and the wandering martial artists who lived by the blade.

Take away a martial artist’s desire to grow endlessly stronger, and all that remained was filthy violence and the sickening stench of blood.

I wanted to grow stronger too.

I wanted to become a master, wash away all the resentment I had carried, and live with my head held high, free from oppression and hunger.

If I had not possessed that desire, I would not have depended on a blade to live until now, no matter how much I needed to survive.

When Head Escort Pung began pressing the attack in earnest, my hands and feet grew busy.

His wooden saber, driven with force, savagely cut through the air, aiming for my pressure points and vital spots. He was no longer simply going easy on me to assess my skill.

He was fighting at full strength now as well.

The fighting spirit in Head Escort Pung’s eyes burned with his will to defeat me. It seemed it had been a long time since he had fought someone properly too.

His fierce, competitive presence was that of a martial artist through and through. Since I was one too, I had no intention of stopping here.

Forgetting that this was an escort agency’s testing ground, we exchanged fierce attacks and defenses.

Whooong!

Crack! Crack!

The wooden sabers were light, but my palms tingled every time they collided.

They had no edges, but a wrong blow could split a skull or shatter bone. The tension was no less than fighting with real blades.

We moved constantly to seize the advantageous position, slashing, blocking, thrusting, and evading.

My breath grew hotter, and every part of my body, down to my fingertips, tightened taut.

I shattered a sharp saber strike with the Nameless Saber Art’s consecutive forms, finally opening a handspan-wide gap at his side.

I sent a feint toward his face to disrupt his vision, then lowered my body, slipped into his blind spot, and swung in a long horizontal cut.

Got him!

It was too late to evade, and blocking it would be difficult. This was the end.

The strike I delivered with certainty did not meet flesh and bone at the tip of my wooden saber.

Caught off guard, Head Escort Pung widened his eyes and leaped to the opposite side. With only the strength of his wrist, he rotated his wooden saber and barely knocked aside my blade.

Even so, he had put proper force into it, and my wrist ached.

I used Eight Directions Step and swung my wooden saber wide to disperse the remaining momentum. Before he could regain his stance, I charged again.

“Hah!”

Rather than avoiding the incoming strike, Head Escort Pung gave a bold shout and thrust his wooden saber forward.

Just before our weapons collided, he deftly curled the tip inward, pressed down my wooden saber, and drove a long thrust straight at me.

The technique was so exquisite that a chill ran down my spine.

It was a form I had never seen before, yet it looked strangely familiar. I twisted away in haste, then suddenly realized.

This was not saber art. It was even less likely to be sword art. If what I saw was correct, this was...

Spear art.

Lan-Na-Cha (攔拿扎)

TN: Block, seize and stab.

The basic sequence of all spear techniques, as well known as the Three Talents Sword Art.

I had never seen anyone use it with a saber or sword.

It seemed he only happened to be using a saber and had originally been a spearman.

For spear techniques to emerge after he had been swinging a saber for so long meant he had been driven into a corner.

Lan-Na-Cha (攔拿扎) performed with a spear was difficult to block with a saber or sword, but Lan-Na-Cha (攔拿扎) performed with a wooden saber was not so powerful.

I twisted the wooden saber in both hands, stepped forward with my left foot, and used a form of the Nameless Saber Art to slash upward with all my strength.

Crack!!

One hand could not defeat two hands.

Head Escort Pung’s wooden saber, which had thrust forward with terrifying force, veered off course and wobbled like a snake struck on the head.

I did not miss the opportunity and kicked off the ground to rush in.

As though he meant to unleash one final ultimate technique, Head Escort Pung stared at me grimly and raised his wooden saber above his head.

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